Changing Rooms
by AdelaideArcher
Summary: At long last, the television has come to Hogwarts, but how to decide what to watch?


Written as part of the LiveJournal SSHG Promptfest 2016. Thanks to MsAnthrop for the awesome prompt, which I had a lot of fun with. Huge, enormous thanks and hugs to my amazing alphas/betas/cheerleaders Hikorichan, MelodyLePetit and Lena1987.

My prompt was: At long last, the telly comes to Hogwarts... but the only place that it will work is the staff lounge. Pity the faculty can't stop bickering over the remote— and the Headmaster and Charms Professor won't stop fighting over what programme to watch.

Disclaimer: None of this is mine. Not even Lawrence, Charlie and Handy Andy. No BBC presenters were harmed in the writing of this fic; however, the teapots have seen better days...

 **Changing Rooms**

Professor Severus Snape's lip curled derisively. Honestly, what was wrong with these women? They were _witches_ for the love of Merlin. They had _wands_. If they wanted a change, all they had to do was a little transfiguration and there you had it. A new bed, or desk, or anything they wanted, as long as the original item was of sufficient quality to transfigure, and they didn't object to renewing the charms periodically. But show them one long-haired ponce in a frock-coat on the first television to be seen in the Wizarding World, and every last one of them wittered about "Changing Rooms" this and Lawrence Llewellyn-Bowen that.

Severus took a slug of firewhisky and continued to watch his colleagues. There was Pomfrey screeching about splashbacks, whatever they might be, to a barely listening Flitwick, whose eyes lit up with enthusiasm whenever an advert for "Ground Force" came on. Severus suspected it was more the sight of a braless Charlie Dimmock than the plethora of Muggle plants that held the Charms professor's rapt attention. Pomona would give poor Filius hell for that later, he thought with a snort of amusement.

His eyes were drawn to Professor Granger, busy with her knitting and her wine glass (charmed to refill itself automatically). It seemed his eyes were always drawn to Hermione Granger. A few weeks after her arrival at the castle, he had discovered that he was as attracted to her funny, clever personality as he was to her voluptuous curves, which caused him much grief. Admiring her body was one thing, but actually _liking_ her? Surely that was a pointless exercise.

As if she felt his gaze, Hermione glanced over at him. Catching his eye, she jerked her head minutely towards the Headmistress. Severus followed her gesture and snorted once more. Perched on the edge of her seat, Minerva's eyes were glued to the sight of Handy Andy's jeans-clad derriere. He glanced back at Hermione, who raised her glass to him in a gesture of amusement. Smirking, Severus drained his tumbler and reached for the bottle of wine instead.

hr

An hour later, Severus and Hermione were the only two members of staff remaining.

"Who would have thought that a Weasley invention would ever have graced the staff room at Hogwarts?" Severus asked.

"I know," replied Hermione. "But it was a great project for George after Fred died. It's just a shame that it's so expensive to buy the muggle parts that will withstand the multiple charms it needs to work around magic. I know he wants to give Arthur a telly, but that'll have to wait until he can bring the price down a bit. It's only Hogwarts and the Ministry that can afford one at these prices, and I don't think the Ministry will be getting one any time soon."

"Indeed," replied Severus. "If not for that bizarre clause in Dumbledore's will—'Ten thousand Galleons to be invested by Hogwarts into _fun_ and _frivolity_ for the staff'—then I daresay his invention would be languishing with the ghoul in Molly and Arthur's attic by now."

Hermione's attention returned to the television. "Oh look, it's on again!" Sure enough, the by-now-familiar theme music of "Changing Rooms" wormed its way into Severus' head.

He sighed. "Pass the bottle, Granger. There's no way I can watch this drivel sober."

Hermione huffed, but passed the bottle to Severus. "This is a good one—Lawrence is in this one," she remarked.

"Lawrence? The long-haired pillock in the frock-coat?" Severus' tone was scathing.

Hermione looked pointedly at her colleague. "Frock-coats have their time and place," she muttered.

"Yes. Either Victorian England or Diagon Alley. Merlin's boxers, the man is in Wandsworth! He looks ridiculous!"

"I think he looks pretty good, myself," Hermione said sulkily.

Severus stared vaguely at the television, drinking more and more wine in a vain attempt to drown out the female presenter's irritating bray, not to mention the dreamy little sighs Hermione gave every time bloody Lawrence came on screen. What on earth was this design? Hanging shelves? For a priceless collection of hideous teapots? Insane.

All of a sudden a loud crash reverberated through the room from the telly. Severus jumped, then roared with laughter as he watched the hanging shelves collapse, smashing every one of the ugly teapots. Now _this_ was entertainment!

"Severus, you arse!" laughed Hermione, smacking him on the arm. "That poor woman. Both of them! The poor designer! The poor collector!"

"Serves them both right for agreeing to be on this programme in the first place," Severus chuckled.

"I'd do it," said Hermione.

"You just want to get into Llewelly-Bowie's trousers," chortled Severus, before stopping abruptly. Somehow that idea didn't seem as amusing as he'd expected it to.

"His name," said Hermione, with a brave attempt at dignity, "is Lollen… Lossens… Law-sence … dammit. Law-rence Llew-ell-yn Bow-en," she enunciated carefully. "Actually, I would do it. My bathroom is horrible—Professor Vector had rubbish taste. If I have to look at pink veined marble ever again, I might vomit. Not that you'd notice. It looks like sick anyway."

"Might I suggest changing it yourself?" asked Severus.

"Well, I would, but I can't decide what I want."

"You should be more like me. My rooms have been the same since I moved into them," said Severus smugly.

"Really? That's so boring. You need a change! A change is as good as a holiday, you know." Hermione was suddenly fired with enthusiasm.

Severus gave a sudden glance at his watch. "Quick, give me the remote, Granger. My programme is starting."

"Oh, what are you watching?"

Severus cleared his throat. "Er… er… Nngbts," he muttered.

"What?"

"Damn. Nigella Bites," he said, the colour rising in his pale cheeks.

"Nige-ell-laaaa," sang Hermione, passing him the remote control. "You loooove her!"

"I most certainly do not!"

"Of course you do. You're a man. You all love Nigella. Actually, all us women love her too. She's bloody sexy," Hermione slurred. "Those bazoomas… mmmmm, she's delicious. I prefer men, but I wouldn't turn her away."

Severus sat rigid, in more ways than one. Hermione's words had conjured up all sorts of increasingly delicious images in his mind. Although, "Bazoomas?" he asked incredulously.

Hermione roared with laughter. "That's Ron. Honestly, how can you feel sexy towards a man who talks about your bazoomas? No wonder we broke up!"

Severus wondered what term she would prefer. Breasts? Boobs? Tits? Knockers? Hermione giggled, and he realised to his abject horror that he had thought aloud.

"Oh, I don't know," she murmured. "Depends on who's talking about them. If it was, say, Neville, I'd prefer he didn't mention them at all. Filius is welcome to never think of them either. I think I'd throw up if Harry called them anything—he's like my brother; as far as he's concerned, I don't have breasts."

Severus could scarcely believe his ears. Professor Granger had been back at Hogwarts for just over a year, and he had spent most of that time chastising himself for an "inappropriate attraction to a former student, Severus, you letch." Now, here she was, calmly discussing the very breasts he had fantasised about on many a lonely night in his dungeons.

He realised Hermione was still speaking. "So, Severus, what would _you_ call them?"

Severus would later blame (or thank) the wine for his response. "Hermione, were I ever fortunate enough to see your breasts, I'm quite sure I would say they were," his voice deepened to a velvety purr, "beautiful. Delicious. Divine. Luscious…"

Hermione gazed into his eyes. "And would you like to? See them? Judge for yourself?"

Severus' breath caught. "I would like that above all things," he replied.

He watched, transfixed, as Hermione's delicate hands moved slowly to the top button of her muggle shirt. Bottom lip between her teeth, she slowly eased the button through its hole and slid her fingers to the next one. This time he caught a glimpse of ivory lace as the edges of her shirt parted slightly. The third button gave him the knowledge that her areola was darker than he might have expected; nut-brown and infinitely preferable to the peachy-pink of his imagination. Another button and her creamy stomach was exposed. The final button slipped out of its hole and she shrugged off the blouse.

"I was right," Severus said hoarsely. "Beautiful."

"I haven't finished." Hermione's eyes had never left his face.

She reached both hands around to her back and deftly unclipped her bra. The lacy confection dropped to the floor unnoticed by Severus, whose cock was almost painful, straining desperately at his trousers.

"Delicious," he said.

Hermione visibly gathered her courage. "How do you know? You haven't… you haven't tasted."

Severus met her eyes, seeing his desire reflected back at him. "I would like to do much more than _taste,_ Hermione."

Matching her fearlessness, he stretched out his hand and felt a jolt of lust as he stroked her satin cheek. Still cupping her face, he bent to meet her lips, gasping as he felt her tongue slip between his lips and entwine with his own. She tasted of wine, utterly delectable. He groaned and shifted his other hand to tangle in her mass of curls.

"Severus." Hermione broke away from their kiss and touched his cheek. "I want you to know, this isn't the wine. I've wanted this, wanted _you_ , for a long time. It's okay if it's only the wine for you, but please tell me. I want to go ahead regardless—I can deal with my feelings in the morning. I just wanted you to know that it's not the wine for me, and I'd like to see where this can go."

Severus leaned over so their foreheads touched. "Hermione, it's not the wine for me either. I don't know where this is going, but I'd like to find out. I'm extremely attracted to you, and I think you're one of a very small group of people whose company I actually enjoy." He paused. "Now, I think it's high time I tasted those enticing little nipples, don't you?"

Hermione sighed. "That's one of your better ideas, Professor Snaaaa…" Her voice trailed off as Severus cupped both breasts in his large, slightly roughened hands. His thumbs gently trailed over her nipples as he lowered his lips to her left breast. Soft kisses followed tiny bites across the top her her breast until he reached her nipple. Teasing, he licked delicately around it, never quite touching the aching, puckered bud. Her little groans of frustration were music to his ears, as was her moan of, "Severus, please." Tantalisingly slowly, torturing himself as much as her, he closed his lips around her nipple and sucked gently.

"I was right," he said, his voice slightly muffled by her breast pressed against his face. "Delicious. Luscious. I wonder if you taste this intoxicating _everywhere_?"

Hermione's voice was unsteady. "I'm very happy for you to find out, as long as the taste test is reciprocal," she said. "And, if you don't mind, I'd quite like to move this to a bed—your place or mine?"

Severus chuckled. "Quite. Mine, I think. I have plans involving a bathtub, and your bathroom, with all due respect, doesn't sound like the most inspiring setting in the world."

"Mmmm, another good idea. Your place it is then."

Kissing and groping, they made their unsteady way to the fireplace. Floo-powder in hand, Severus was interrupted from whisking them away when Hermione suddenly giggled, "Oh Bollocks! My bra!"

Severus laughed uproariously, picturing Minerva's face if she'd seen Hermione's bra gracing the staff room floor. "Quick, witch, get your clothes and let's be off."

hr

There had been much laughter that night, Severus reflected later, with none of the awkwardness that usually accompanied the first time with a new partner. He had been gratified and delighted to discover that Hermione's taste only improved the further he explored her soft, yielding body. Settling himself between her thighs, his tongue darting out to tantalise her clitoris with a swift stroke before deliberately pulling her lower lips into his mouth and suckling delicately, he had been almost overcome with the feeling of _rightness,_ of belonging, of _home_. Later, with her pink lips encircling his cock and her sexy little grunts of arousal vibrating through to his balls, the feeling had only intensified. Still later, poised above her, awaiting her smiling invitation to enter her welcoming warmth, Severus knew that while this wasn't love, _yet_ , he would do anything and everything in his power to keep this woman in his life.


End file.
